


One Step Closer

by visionshadows



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-15
Updated: 2005-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 13:01:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visionshadows/pseuds/visionshadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ray could see the moment when reality came crashing back and Fraser straightened up, licking his lips and the wildness fading from his eyes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Step Closer

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
ONE STEP CLOSER |   
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> Ray let out a grunt as Fraser slammed him against the door, fists buried in Fraser’s navy pea coat. Fraser’s eyes were wild, a wild Ray had never seen before (_starving both of them starving_) but knew all the same. With a groan, Fraser kissed him, their teeth clacking together in impatience.
> 
> It was too much at once and Fraser (_goddammit Fraser fucking all around him_) was already insinuating a hand between their bodies, struggling with the buttons on Ray’s jeans. Ray pushed him back, panting heavily, lips shiny with Fraser’s spit.
> 
> Fraser stared at him, his chest heaving. Ray could see the moment when reality came crashing back and Fraser straightened up, licking his lips and the wildness fading from his eyes.
> 
> “_No_. Dammit, no.” Ray grabbed him and pulled him close again. “Don’t you fucking go away again, Fraser. Don’t you fucking do that to me.”
> 
> Fraser’s gaze grew hot and Ray shuddered against him. “Stay here. Right here. If you fucking leave me …”
> 
> Ray dropped his head to Fraser’s shoulder (_broad fucking itchy wool fucking pea coat_) and groaned a little. Fraser’s hand came up to touch Ray’s back, sliding over the slick of the leather, his nails digging in and holding on.
> 
> “This fucking itches,” Ray said as he pulled back enough to divest Fraser of his pea coat. Underneath was red serge and Ray knew from previous experiences (_wearing touching staring wanting_) that the serge was just as itchy. So were the pants. “It all fucking itches. Your clothes. Fraser.”
> 
> “Yes.” And Fraser was working on the Velcro and straps and buttons that Ray’s fingers were fumbling with, trying to shrug out of his leather jacket at the same time. He pressed his nose to Fraser’s neck (_wool sweat leather woods good_) and breathed deeply. Fraser shuddered and his hands faltered.
> 
> But the fucking serge was off and in a pile on the ground. Ray pulled down suspenders and untucked the pristine white henley, his hands sliding underneath to touch hot (_smooth hard quivering_) skin, his nails raking across as he pushed up the henley.
> 
> “Boots.” Fraser’s voice was husky, his hands tugging at Ray’s shoulders. “The boots. Off first.”
> 
> Ray kissed him again, getting lost in the slick hot slide of tongue on tongue. Fraser tasted like tea and honey and something pure and white like snow. Ray inhaled the cold of the snow in Fraser’s mouth and exhaled heat and humidity.
> 
> “Boots, boots, boots,” Fraser chanted into his mouth, his eyes wild again. Ray could feel Fraser’s heart hammering in his chest, could feel the pulse of blood (_fragile delicate veins and arteries_) under his fingers. Fraser pushed him back and bent over to work on the boots since Ray wasn’t listening to him.
> 
> Ray kicked off his own shoes, watching them slide across the floor and hit the pile of serge. He tugged at his t-shirt, dropping it on the ground as well before putting his hands back on Fraser and tugging the henley off completely.
> 
> Fraser shuddered as Ray’s fingers trailed over the ridge of his vertebrae and Ray leaned over to bite the cord of muscle that rose from Fraser’s shoulder. With a cry, Fraser spun around and grabbed him again, boots forgotten as Fraser slammed him into another wall and kissed him so hard Ray forgot everything (_perfect fucking perfect_) except the taste of snow.
> 
> Ray felt Fraser’s thigh push between his own and unthinkingly, he humped that thigh, his cock singing the praises of Fraser’s thigh for all who wanted to listen. Fraser was grunting into his mouth and answering Ray’s erratic thrusts with thrusts of his own.
> 
> The wall was hard against Ray’s back and his fingers dug into the pale skin of Fraser’s shoulders as they continued to kiss and rut and fucking do everything they had both dreamed up late at night all alone (_more more more more_) and hard for each other.
> 
> Fraser grabbed Ray’s head and Ray cried into Fraser’s mouth as blooms of pain crossed his skull, fingers too tight (_too fucking perfect_) and Fraser bit down on Ray’s lip, teeth piercing skin and Ray cried out again and shoved himself against Fraser’s thigh and dug his fingers in as hard as he could as he came.
> 
> Fraser’s eyes were so wild (_savage ray knew he’d look like this when he was broken savage perfect out of control_) that Ray didn’t know how to do anything but kiss him hard as Fraser howled against his mouth, his thrusts stopping but his heart still hammering against Ray’s chest.
> 
> Ray hung pinned against the wall by Fraser’s thigh, Fraser’s head heavy on his shoulder, big hands still cradling his skull. Gentle this time, but heavy and present, fingers still resting where pain had bloomed. Ray licked his split lip and unclenched his fingers, his body relaxing against Fraser.
> 
> Fraser would hold him there, pinned between the wall and Fraser himself, for as long as necessary. Ray knew that Fraser wasn’t going anywhere.
> 
> Because Fraser wouldn’t fucking do that to him.
> 
> Fraser wasn’t _her_.

  
  
  
 

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